Angry Young Man
by vasoline
Summary: November 9th, 1948 Dallas Winston was born. September 21st, 1966 Dallas Winston died. Dallas Winston was told he didn't have a shot from the start and to many, it was surprising he made it as far in life as he did. "Nobody is born hard. It's life, and it's twists and it's turns, that make people that way."
1. Prologue

A song fic based off Elvis's "In the Ghetto". This song always reminded of Dallas's. Here's a little taste:

* * *

 **ANGRY YOUNG MAN**

 _a poor little baby child is born_

 **[prologue]**

 _November 9_ _th_ _, 1948_

Snow fell down from the dark sky, the first snowfall of the year. It was a late November night, a little past eleven. An abundance of nurses and doctors crowded around a small hospital bed where a woman was lid. Her face was contorted in pain and a doctor urged her to keep going, to keep pushing. The woman grunted and groaned but eventually a new sound was heard: the cry of a newborn baby. All the doctors and nurses grinned with joy at the baby they had just born but the woman looked anything but relieved.

"It's a boy!" One of the doctors said, sliding the baby into his mother's arms.

The woman began to cry, holding the baby tightly to her chest. But these were not tears of happiness; the woman did not have the resources to provide for a child, she hardly had the resources to provide for herself. That realization was a hard one to swallow.

The woman was asleep when a nurse came in with documents stuffed under her arm. The woman's eyes fluttered open and she sat up when she saw the nurse, who gave her a polite smile.

"I've just got some things for you to fill out, if you're up for it. I know you had a hard labor."

The woman agreed and grabbed the pen and papers from the nurse. She scribbled down all the necessary information in a hurry. Her body ached and her mind was pleading with her to go back to sleep.

She handed everything back to the nurse who was waiting patiently. The nurse flipped through everything quickly, checking for errors. When she deemed everything up to par, she looked back at the woman with a nod.

"Dallas Vincent Winston," the nurse read softly off the birth certificate. "A wonderful name."

"I named him after my daddy," the woman said, already back on the verge of sleep. "The first and last good man I ever knew."

"What about his daddy?" The nurse gestured to the baby.

"He ain't nobody to me." The woman said just above a whisper as slumber finally came and took her.

The nurse quietly made her way over to the baby, who was curled up in a blue fleece blanket. The only sound from him was his tiny breaths to let the nurse know he was alive. She ran a hand over his head and smiled as the baby curled into the warmth of her hand.

"I'm gonna be prayin' for you, Dallas."


	2. Chapter 1 (5 Years Old)

This is the first official chapter of this, I hope you like it :) Dallas would be five here

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 _his mama cries 'cause if there's one thing she don't need it's another hungry mouth to feed_

* * *

 _June 8_ _th_ _, 1955_

He could hear his mom weeping behind the closed door of her bedroom. He blocked it out by turning up the volume louder on the television. She did that a lot; hid herself away to cry.

Dallas didn't know why she cried. All he knew was it made him feel sad and he didn't like that.

Dallas's stomach grumbled but he knew better than to go search the kitchen for something to eat. There wasn't much of anything there. His mom always scraped up enough food that he never got _too_ hungry but he knew he wasn't allowed to go snack at any time of the day. They'd run out too quick, that's what his mom said.

His attention flicked from the television to the door as someone knocked roughly upon it. No one knocked usually but when they did, his mom told him never to answer. She said they could be bad or they could say they wanted to take him away from her. But his mom was too distracted without whatever was making her sad to notice that someone had knocked and Dallas was too curious not to find out who it was. Dallas always got excited when there was someone at the door. He always thought maybe it was his dad coming back for them, to make everything good again. His mom didn't talk about his dad but every kid had one so Dallas _knew_ he had one somewhere.

He pushed a chair from the kitchen all the way to the door to see who it was. He climbed the chair and stared into the peephole. A man stood outside their apartment. He was dressed really smart: he had a fancy hat on and a suit to match. No one in their apartment building ever dressed like that.

Dallas was tempted to open the door himself but instead listened to his mom. Instead, he ran to her bedroom and flung open the door. His mom was sat at the edge of the bed with her head in her hands and her body shook silently. Dallas knew better than to interrupt his mom when she was like this but Dallas was too intrigued by who was behind the door.

"Momma," he said softly. "Someone's knocking on the door."

His mom looked up and Dallas quickly glanced away. It made him too sad to see her blotchy eyes and tear-stained face.

"Who is it, baby?" She asked, plastering a broken smile on her face. "Did you check?"

Dallas nodded. "I checked but I don't know who, momma. It's some man. He looks fancy."

"Okay, hang on, let me freshen up."

He watched as his mom brushed through her hair, that had gotten frizzy from all the tears, and as she swiped on some stuff on her eyes and lips. His mother was very pretty – _way_ prettier than the other kids at school moms. All the other moms were old and wore funny clothes. His mom was pretty even when she was a mess but when she wasn't – when she wore nice dresses and did her hair – Dallas loved looking at her. He was proud of his mom. All the girls at school thought she was pretty, too.

After she cleaned herself up, his mother grabbed his hand and they walked to the door together. His mother glanced through the peephole herself and then sucked in a breath.

"Shit," his mom mumbled to herself. "I didn't think that was today…"

 _What was today?_ He wondered. He looked up at his mother expectantly.

"Baby, can you go lay and bed and pretend you're real sick, ok?"

Dallas was confused but he did as she said. He didn't lay in his bed, though. His room was too small. It was just a closet but with a tiny bed and a little window. He didn't like it. He crawled into his mom's bed instead and pulled the covers over him, all the way up to his nose.

He could hear his mom open their door and then begin talking to whoever the man behind the door was. The man sounded very serious and Dallas knew his mom enough to know that she sounded nervous.

"The boy is home?" Dallas heard the man say, he didn't seem too happy. "It's Wednesday. He should be at school."

"I know, sir," his mom replied timidly. "But he hasn't been feeling well. I think he's got a bit of a cold."

Footsteps padded down their small hallway and when the knob to his mother's room turned, Dallas shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"Baby," his mother gave him a gentle shove as if she was trying to wake up him but they both knew he was faking. "Wake up."

Dallas let his eyes flutter open and he stretched, letting out a fake yawn. "Momma?"

"Yes," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Dallas noticed the man behind his mom. He was watching Dallas with a stern expression. No wonder his mom had sounded nervous, the man was too serious.

"My head hurts," Dallas said in a whimper-y voice. "And I'm cold."

His mother felt his forehead like she always did when he was actually sick. "You're burning up, baby," she glanced back at the man behind her. "I think he's got a fever. I'm gonna go get him some water."

The man nodded, letting her leave.

"Hi, Dallas." Said the man. "I'm Frank."

"Hi, Frank," Dallas said politely. "Who're are you?"

"I'm just here to make sure you're okay and being taken care of."

"That's nice. I remember another man like you came before," Dallas sat up. "His name was Michael, though. I didn't like him. He was mean."

Frank raised a brow. "Oh, really?"

"Yup," his mom came in and passed him some water and he chugged it. "He said my mom wasn't trying hard enough which made me mad. My momma is the best mom."

The man shook his head. "That's not very nice. I happen to think your mom is trying extremely hard."

His mom and Frank shared a look that Dallas didn't understand. "I'm just not sure if that's enough. But for now, I'll leave it."

After Frank left, Dallas's mom holed herself up in her room again. Dallas went back to his cartoons. Dallas decided he liked Frank more than Michael. He felt bad for lying to him about being sick.

Frank was right, Dallas was supposed to be at school today. He wished he was at school. When his mom was upset sometimes she forgot to do things like that, sometimes she even forgot to go to work or to the grocery store. School would have been fun, they would probably even go outside since it was summer now. He would get to see his friends and he wouldn't have to hear her cry anymore.


End file.
